


Ready. Set. GO.

by qblackheart



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qblackheart/pseuds/qblackheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s an old adage that goes something like this: Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child has far to go, Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for a living, but the child who is born on the Sabbath Day is bonny and blithe and good and gay. This is the tale of two such children: Jensen (woe is he, he’s so…whoa!) and Jared (the fairest of them all, inside and out.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready. Set. GO.

**Author's Note:**

> Jensen is Wednesday’s child (really, I Googled it) and Jared and I are Monday’s children (he’s fair of face, and I’m…fair.) IDEK where this came from, it just did. And it was my birthday, and I felt like writing myself birthday!fic and now here it is, a month too late. And yeah, there’s a Down With Webster inspired phrase in the summary above; I love _Whoa is Me_.
> 
> FYI: GO (Government of Ontario) Transit runs an inner/inter city train service into downtown Toronto’s Union Station that I used to ride, and there’s a bit of the line out in Scarborough, after Guildwood and past Rouge Hill, where the train goes right along Lake Ontario and the view from that little stretch of track is beautiful. In the summer, the sun glints off the blue, blue lake that spreads wide like a sea, and in the winter, it’s covered in a sheet of ice, all white and bleak and breathtaking.
> 
> Anyway, I love riding in trains and I love people-watching. Once, on a trip from Rouge Hill to Union, I saw a boy putting on make-up and when he got off the train, he was prettier than any girl I’d ever seen. We were the only two people in that car, on the upper level anyway, and he gave me the sweetest smile when we got out. This story is not about that, though. It’s just a tribute to the people on public transit who are endlessly fascinating, and sometimes hopelessly boring (*stares pointedly at self*). This is my J2 take on it. I supposed I could've called it Riding in Trains with Boys, but I didn't want to go there.
> 
> Comments = Love!

  


 

Mondays were the shit.

No, seriously. Mondays came with that new-week smell, the endless possibilities of the day ahead, and just a general fresh outlook on life. So what if they also came with rush hour madness on the way to work, chirpy co-workers just dying to tell you all about their weekend when you couldn’t really give a flying fuck, and rush hour madness on the way home from work?

Yes, sarcasm is our friend.

Jensen Ackles groaned and woke up wishing he had the power to banish the day from existence. But then, he supposed, he’d just resent Tuesdays. You know, more than he already did. Okay, time to derail that particular runaway train of thought and get the fuck out of bed or he’d miss his actual train to work.

  


* * *

  
Precisely – to the millisecond, perhaps – an hour and fifteen minutes later, Jensen stood in his regular spot on the platform at Rouge Hill GO station waiting for the train. Which was running two minutes behind schedule, according to the tinny voice of the transit employee on the loudspeakers. Because, you know. Mondays.

Thankfully, two minutes actually translated into two minutes and not ten and the train pulled up not long afterwards. Jensen didn’t let the delay ruffle him; that contingency had already been factored in to his daily travel time. Gently adjusting the impeccable Windsor knot at his collar, he stepped onto the train and, quickly bypassing the lower level, climbed the handful of steps to the mid-level bank of seats, seeking out his spot by the window, facing the direction of travel, already looking forward to his favourite part of the ride where the train zipped along the shores of Lake Ontario…but someone was already sitting in his seat. 

 _Dozing_  in his seat, actually, the man’s mile-long legs in an obscene sprawl, his arms folded across his chest and his head down, shaggy, unkempt hair obscuring his face.

Well.  _That_  had never happened before.

This was precisely the reason he took such an early train: so he could get his preferred seat and not get jostled and molested as the train filled up with warm bodies the closer they got to downtown Toronto.

And now, with this slumbering man already occupying  _his_  seat, Jensen was a bit of a loss as to what to do. A woman cleared her throat behind him, and he was forced to get out of her way, so he ended up moving to take the seat across from the man, his back facing the front of the train and he couldn’t travel like this; traveling against the grain gave him a headache. But time and transit waited for no man and, in his moment of indecision, the train lurched forward and Jensen was thrown off balance and, overcompensating in his surprise, he went tumbling into his seat-stealer’s lap.

The man startled awake with a gasp and Jensen found himself staring into a pair of shocked – and very pretty – hazel eyes.

Jensen blinked stupidly. The man smiled at him then, slow and still drowsy, his eyes sparkling with amusement as dimples cut into his cheeks. Jensen was struck dumb.

The guy licked his lips and Jensen’s eyes tracked the tiny motion with avid interest. Dear God, he had such a pretty, pretty mouth: blush pink lips, spit slick and shiny and Jensen found himself leaning in, quite against his will, and…

The woman next to them giggled.

The college-aged kid behind him snorted.  
   
And the couple who always sat diagonally across from him outright laughed.  
   
He reeled back in shock and struggled to stand.  
   
Adjusting his tie again, because the thing was choking him now, especially with all the blood rushing to his head, he grappled for some semblance of sanity and stared his nemesis down, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.  
   
“You’re sitting in my seat.”  
   
The guy smirked up at him. “Oh, yeah?”  
   
“Yeah. Er… Yes.”  
   
“Why can’t you sit there?” the guy asked, pointing at the seat behind Jensen.  
   
“It’s facing the wrong way,” Jensen gritted out, loath to admit weakness. “I get motion sickness.”  
   
“Okay,” the guy nodded, smiling again (holy shit, he was hot), and standing (holy fuck, he was  _tall_ ), and suddenly, he and Jensen were sharing a very tiny space, and the ride wasn’t the smoothest and their bodies bumped into each other, and Jensen couldn’t fucking move.  
   
He was inordinately grateful when they guy moved him. Very gently, and out of the way and in the direction of his favourite seat before sprawling once again onto the seat opposite him.  
   
“Thank you,” he remembered to say when he found his voice, which happened to be only when the train pulled into Guildwood Station, a full five minutes later.  
   
The guy grinned, looking a little charmed, and Jensen hurriedly looked out of the window instead.  
   
Their knees brushed the entire ride to Union station.  
   
Fucking Mondays.

 

* * *

 

The moron was on his train on the way home, too.  
   
He took the seat across from Jensen and attempted to make conversation.  
   
Jesus Christ.  
   
Jensen let him talk, nodding politely when he was expected to and giving rote, monosyllabic answers otherwise.  
   
When they left the station at Eglinton en route to Guildwood, he held up a hand.  
   
“Shh…”  
   
The guy – Jared, he’d found out – blinked and his winded speech stuttered to a stop. “What?”  
   
“We’re going by the lake soon,” Jensen informed him, “that’s quiet time.”  
   
“Oh,” Jared said, his mouth gaping a bit, “okay.”  
   
“Okay.”  
   
They rode in silence and watched the pinkish purple sky and wispy gray clouds reflect in the placid waters. When they pulled into Rouge Hill, Jensen stood, barely nodding in the other man’s direction.  
   
It wasn’t that he was running away; he just had a very purposeful stride, and it had been a long fucking day and he just wanted to get home, okay?  
   
“See you tomorrow, Jensen!” 

Dear God. He  _loathed_  Mondays.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Tuesday morning started off better than Monday in that the train was on time. Unfortunately, Jensen’s day went downhill from there.

   
Jared wasn’t sitting in Jensen’s seat, but instead in ‘his’ seat – the one across from Jensen’s – way too close for any sort of comfort on Jensen’s part.  
   
“Timbit?” he offered, holding out the twenty-Timbit box of donut holes from Tim Horton’s and even though the sweet scent tempted Jensen, he shook his head. It was way too early in the morning for refined sugar.  
   
“No, thank you,” he declined politely, taking his seat and opening up his copy of the  _Metro News_ , basically shutting Jared out because Jensen was not in a chatty mood. Ever.  
   
This did not, however, curb Jared’s enthusiasm for chatter. Not with Jensen, and not with any of the other people in the vicinity.  
   
Jensen huffed; did Jared not know the cardinal rule of travelling in public transit? No physical contact, and no verbal communication. Brief eye contact was permissable, as was a decidedly non-verbal nod or polite smile. Seriously. How did anyone in this day and age not know that?  
   
So, against his will and in spite of his best attempts to ignore everyone around him, Jensen now knew that Grace Leung was the woman sitting next to him (she was a sales associate at the Eddie Bauer store in the Eaton Centre), Riley Anderson was the college kid sitting next to Jared (doing his Master’s in Neuroscience at U of T), and Mina and Yasser Ali were the couple across the aisle (she was a financial advisor at the Royal Bank and he worked in advertising.)  
   
Jared (Padalecki; he’d obligingly spelled it out) worked at the Royal Ontario Museum; he was a curatorial assistant in Ancient Artefacts. He had Polish roots, an older brother (who was a doctor) and a younger sister (who was a freshman at U of T’s Scarborough campus, major as yet undeclared), in addition to his mom (a retired high school English teacher who was now trying to pen The Novel that would make her famous) and dad (who had his own plumbing business and no, he didn’t own the requisite plumber’s pants that tended to slip and share a little TMI when he checked the pipes under the sink.) His parents lived in Pickering and so did he for the time being, but he’d been looking for a place of his own in Scarborough, halfway between his parents’ house and work.    
   
Jensen also briefly heard about Grace’s new boyfriend (who was hotter than the sun and knew it a little too well), Riley’s last Ultimate Frisbee game (dude, his team had lost spectacularly and they could’ve used a guy Jared’s size just for intimidation because a bunch of science nerds had been no match for a bunch of jock engineers), and Mina and Yasser were expecting their first child in a few months (Mina wanted a boy and Yasser wanted a girl, and Jared thought they should’ve tried harder for twins so that they could’ve had one of each and everyone would’ve been happy.)  
   
The train pulled into Union just in the nick of time. You know, before Jensen’s could shoot himself in the head.

* * *

 

  
Jensen found himself thinking about Jared intermittently throughout day. It was…distracting.

He went to Tim Horton’s for lunch. He didn’t buy any Timbits; he didn’t even look at them.

* * *

 

  
He met Jared on the way home again, because the universe hated him like that.

“You never mentioned what you do,” Jared reminded him when they took their seats, “you know, for a living.”

“I know.”

The curt response would have deterred a lesser man. “Well?”

Jensen made the mistake of looking at Jared, presumably to convey his irritation, but all he saw was the hopeful, freaking _adorable_ look on Jared’s face, and he was a goner.

“I’m a senior auditor, corporate division. With Revenue Canada.” Yes, Jensen had the most hated job in the history of the world; he was the Taxman. He braced himself for the usual look of revulsion he got when people heard that.

“Wow,” Jared said, actually looking impressed, “so you’re good with numbers, huh? That’s awesome. Math was, like, my worst subject in school. Fucking Calculus nearly killed my GPA.”

Jensen reared back, feeling a little offended. “I _like_ Calculus.”

“No, no! It’s awesome that you do! I mean, that’ll come in handy…er…like when your kids need help with their homework. You know, when they get that far in school, and when you give them their allowances…for budgeting purposes…” He trailed off, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, his cheeks a little pink. Jensen tried not to find it endearing. He failed. Then he blinked in confusion.

“I don’t have any kids.”

Jared’s eyebrows rose in inquiry. “Wife?”

“I don’t have a wife. And even if I did, why would she need help with her homework?”

“Uh… She goes to night school?” Jensen just blinked at him some more, incredulous. “Maybe a girlfriend? Or…uh, boyfriend?”

“You think I’m dating someone still in school and doing calculus?”

“No! I was… Pets! Maybe you have pets! Do you like animals?”

“Yes. I like animals. No. I do not have pets. Or a wife or kids and I certainly don’t _date_ kids! How is any of this relevant?”

“It’s not.” Jared beamed at him, blinding Jensen just the slightest bit. “Me neither. Except for the pets part. I have two dogs: Harley and Sadie. But otherwise? Unattached and available – that’s me.” Jensen opened his mouth, about to question the relevance of that statement too, but Jared held up a hand to stop him. He gestured out the window with his thumb. “It’s your favourite part.”

So it was, Jensen thought, clamping his mouth shut and looking out at the lake.

It took a concerted effort not to let his eyes wander in Jared's direction, especially when their knees bumped again, and kept right on bumping, neither of them doing anything about it.

It took him a minute or two to deliberate over it, but he eventually came to the conclusion that he pretty much hated Tuesdays, too.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

“I like your tie,” Jared said as soon as Jensen took his seat on Wednesday, and Mina was quick to agree.

“I like everything,” she added. “You’re always so sharply dressed.”

“Is that a dig at me?” Yasser asked her with a smirk.

She smacked him. “You could take a page out of Jensen’s book.”

“I couldn’t afford a page out of Jensen’s book. He looks like he shops at Harry Rosen.”

“Actually, it’s The Bay…” Jensen tried to interject, but no one was really listening to him.

“Dude, I can only afford to shop at Wal-Mart,” Riley quipped.

“Hey, if you guys like Eddie Bauer,” Grace interjected, “drop by anytime. I can hook you guys up with my employee discount.”

“Sweet,” Riley said excitedly, and Jensen tuned them out and stared at Jared, still not quite sure how his serene morning commute had somehow devolved into this.

Jared leaned forward, beckoning Jensen closer with a tilt of his head; Jensen found himself frowning but doing his bidding anyway. “I think the green stripes accentuate your eyes. S’nice.”

“Er… Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” Jared said, smiling at him. “Hey, have you ever been to the ROM? It’s really cool, man. Like, right now, we have this amazing exhibit on ancient Roman artefacts…and Water. It’s the Source of Life. Or Eau de Source…which translates into spring water, I know, but the exhibit’s interactive and it’s really something else…”

* * *

  
Jensen spent his lunch hour on his personal laptop, browsing through the ROM’s website. It was…not as boring as one who was not usually interested in these sort of things would think.

When he took a break in the afternoon, he got his coffee from Starbucks but he stopped at Timmy’s, too. Sometimes, you just craved a Timbit; no need to analyse it to death.

* * *

 

  
On the way home, he let Jared jabber on about his recent trip to Italy (Jensen was a little jealous), about how much he loved his job (Jensen was a lot jealous), about how much he really wanted a Mustang.

“I have a Mustang,” Jensen volunteered, surprising himself a little.

Jared’s eyes widened. “You do?”

“You think I’m making that up? Why would I lie about that?”

“I didn’t say you were lying!”

“Your tone implied it…”

“No, that was me expressing surprise because you seem so…er…” He made some sort of motion with his hands; Jensen had no idea what it meant. “Buttoned up. Introverted. I pictured you owning a Prius.” And then he smiled, cheeks dimpling, and Jensen forgot to be insulted. “What colour is it?”

“Black.”

“Nice.”

“Decent gas mileage.”

Jared smirked knowingly. “Sure. _That’s_ why you bought it.”

The teeniest, tiniest of smiles tugged at one corner of Jensen’s mouth and Jared suddenly looked like he’d just won Lotto 649. “What?” Jensen asked in annoyance, because who had any right to look that happy on a Wednesday, when there was still Thursday and Friday to get through before the weekend?

“You should smile more,” Jared imparted, as if talking to Jensen for a few minutes over the course of the past two and a half days had somehow translated into _knowing_ him; Jensen bristled indignantly.

“I smile…”

“It makes you look younger.”

“…when there’s a reason to… Are you saying I’m old? That I look old? I am not old!”

Jared bit his bottom lip to hold in a grin and Jensen tried desperately not to stare. “Put on your glasses, old timer, the lake’s coming up.”

* * *

 

  
It was a toss up, Jensen thought as he settled down into bed later that night, relaxing into his cool, crisp white sheets, as to what (or who) he now hated more: Jared, or Wednesdays.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jared greeted Jensen when he sat down in his seat on what had started out as a glorious Thursday morning. “You like baseball?”

Jensen frowned. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“Well, mostly. But you’re a special snowflake, so I had to ask.”

“Yes,” Jensen gritted out, “I like baseball.”

“Do you _root, root, root for the Blue Jays_?” Jared sung to the tune of ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’ – and seriously, could he be more annoying?

“I do.”

“Who’s your fave guy on the team?”

“Arencibia.” Jared smirked like he was highly amused at something; Jensen stood (er…sat) his ground and refused to ask. His resolve lasted a fraction of a second. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Jared assured him, his damnable dimples teasing Jensen, “it’s just that I got tickets for Saturday’s game against the Yankees…”

Jensen drew back, blinking in surprise. Was that…? Had he…? Was Jared…asking him out? On a…date?

“Er…” he responded eloquently, “I… You… What?”

Jared chuckled at his discomfort. “Wanna go heckle some drunk Americans?”

“I going just so I can ogle Jeter’s ass,” Grace piped up.

“Traitor!” Mina laughed. “If you’re gonna ogle ass, ogle our boys. I’ll take Brett Lawrie’s ass for a 1000, Alex.”

Yasser snorted. “Should I be offended by your blatant objectification of men who get paid outrageous amounts of money to wear obscenely tight pants and prance about chasing after a little white ball for a few hours a day, every day, for a few months a year?”

“No, dear.” Mina stuck out her tongue at him. “Also, jealousy is not an attractive trait.”

“Good to know,” Yasser said, rolling his eyes at his wife and the soon-to-be mother of his child. “I’m going for the preposterously overpriced mediocre food, of course.”

“Man, I cannot afford to eat at a Jays’ game on my stipend,” Riley bemoaned.

“Tic Tacs,” Jared offered, though not literally, “I survived university on a steady diet of Tic Tacs, pizza, cheap beer and sheer willpower.”

“Amen, brother.”

They bumped fists before Jared turned to look at Jensen – who had heretofore remained silent, just processing the fact that he’d had a near nervous breakdown over nothing – expectantly. “So? Saturday? You in?”

“Sure,” Jensen heard himself saying, and wait... What? He had been going to politely decline; that had been the message from his brain to his mouth and somewhere along the line, Jensen feared, his dick had intercepted (goddamn Jared and his stupid floppy hair and amazing eyes and pretty mouth and ridiculous dimples) and fuck, now he was stuck with these people – who he did not know, and did not want to know – and he was going to be stuck with them in unfamiliar territory where the rules of public transit travel no longer applied.

Jared beamed at him, oblivious to Jensen’s inner turmoil. “Awesome.”

* * *

 

Jensen spent his lunch break trying to come up with viable reasons he could use to talk his way out of going to the game on Saturday. He supposed he could claim some family get together, but he was estranged from his family – had been ever since he’d come out to them while at university – not that Jared knew that, of course, but Jensen had never been good at telling lies and keeping them straight in his head. Perhaps he could use work as an excuse, but that would also involve subterfuge because he no longer worked weekends; he’d made a promise to his doctor to keep his stress levels and blood pressure on a more even keel.

It was times like this when Jensen wished he had a life.

A life that necessitated having actual friends instead of just mere acquaintances from work or neighbours from around the block or random people on the GO train. A life that required the existence of a boyfriend, someone he could talk to across the dinner table, someone who would share his couch and bed and shower, someone (unlike the douchebag jerk he’d lost his family over) who didn’t cringe and make a run for it every time Jensen wanted to snuggle.

He vaguely wondered if there was any chance Jays’ catcher JP Arencibia could be gay.

* * *

 

“I forgot,” Jensen told Jared when they bumped into each other on the platform that evening, “I’m taking my car in for service on Saturday."

It was a lie, which meant that Jensen didn’t look Jared in the eye as he’d said it, but it would only be a lie for a little while; his Ford dealership had yet to confirm the appointment he’d made at lunchtime.

“You’re kidding me,” Jared groaned, slumping as he took his seat on the train, pouting and looking like he might just cry. “Can’t you cancel it?”

“No.” Best to keep his answers short and succinct; less chance to mess up his ruse.

“Come on, Jensen… Please? For me?”

Jensen baulked, peering at Jared’s face in incredulity. What was that hangdog expression? Jesus. It made him want to _do_ things. Like go to baseball games with hot guy who were bad news to his perfectly ordered life.

His phone rang, surprising him so much that he dropped it. Jared picked it up and handed it to him.

“Jensen Ackles,” he answered. “Yes? No. No. Really? Come on! No. That’s fine. No, _I_ will call _you_ back.”

Jared blinked at him. “You’re like the King of Monosyllabic Answers, aren’t you?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Of course you don’t.” Jared smirked, a fond sort of look on his face that did funny, squishy things to Jensen’s insides. “That was Ford, right?”

Jensen stared at him in surprise. “How…?”

“Call Display. And I just had your phone in my hand.”

“Oh. Right.” Jensen gulped, hoping Jared would leave it at that. He didn’t, of course, but Jensen wasn’t the King of Wishful Thinking for nothing.

“What’d they say?”

He really wanted to tell Jared to mind his own business at the very least, and maybe even to fuck off and leave Jensen alone forever at the most, but the politeness ingrained in him by his upbringing forbade it. “They needed to reschedule my service appointment,” he admitted in defeat.

“How come?”

Jensen’s shoulders sagged. “They couldn’t squeeze me in on such short notice…”

“Because you called them today, right?” Jared asked in a sage sort of way that made Jensen think he was judging him for being an adult incapable of telling a little white lie. “To get out of going to the game?” Jensen nodded, staring at his shiny black wingtips in mute regard. “You could’ve just told me, you know,” Jared said, sounding disappointed and quieter than Jensen had ever heard him. “I thought you said you liked baseball.”

“I do…”

“So, what’s your problem then? Is it me?”

“Well,” Jensen tried to hedge, “I don’t even know you!”

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Huh,” Jared said again, looking at Jensen like he wasn’t quite the sharpest tool in the shed, “like, what do you think I’ve been doing for the past few days?” He rolled his eyes at Jensen’s undoubtedly blank expression. “Getting to know you, idiot. I’ve been trying to keep the kid gloves on, so I thought you’d be okay with it if everyone came. S’why I got so many tickets. But I see now that subtlety is lost on you, so let me be straight…” He paused, and then grinned a little lecherously, and honestly, in no universe should that look have been cute, but whatever, Jensen digressed and Jared was speaking again. “Actually, there is nothing straight about my intentions. They’re very gay. And that whole baseball business this morning, Jensen? That was me asking you out. But with other people tagging along as chaperones so I don’t offend your delicate sensibilities…”

Jensen scowled. “I am not ‘delicate’…”

“You’re like fragile china.”

“Well, you’re like a rampaging bull!”

“Then I say we get together and wreck some havoc, what do you say?”

Jensen blinked at the blatant heat in Jared’s gaze and leaned back as Jared leaned forward. “I say…I’m not even sure I like you.”

“You will.”

Jensen snorted. “Christ. Cocky much?”

“Very, actually,” Jared joked with a leer, and Jensen thought someone should crown him the Kings of Bad Puns, “but you won’t know for sure unless you go out with me.”

“I don’t generally…do this…”

“I think I got that.”

“You’re not exactly my type.”

“How would you know?” Jared asked, lounging in his seat, looking supremely confident. Or doing a very fine job of faking it. Jensen couldn’t quite tell. “Have you tried my type?”

“I don’t need to try haggis to know that I’m never going to put it in my mouth,” Jensen said, and he should really stop Googling random things during his lunch hour.

Jared merely raised his eyebrows. “Interesting analogy.”

“Shut up,” Jensen lamely retorted, because he couldn’t banter to save his life, “I’ve just always wanted to visit Scotland, and I was... Never mind.”

“Maybe we can go sometime…”

Jensen sputtered. “How about we start with the baseball game and see how it goes from there?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Jared grinned at him and Jensen fervently wished he was bendy enough to kick his own ass. Hook, line and sinker. God, he was so gullible. Also, he’d totally missed his favourite part of the ride home because he’d been distracted by Jared. Christ.

And to think, he used to _like_ Thursdays.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Jensen thought about changing his routine on Friday – Jared didn’t know him from Adam, didn’t know where he lived, didn’t have his phone number, it would’ve been easy to lose him in the rush of their commute – but he didn’t; that was the coward’s way out and Jensen wasn’t (that big) a coward.

* * *

 

Grace grinned at him when he took his seat. “Not gonna lie, Jensen. I’m looking forward to seeing you out of your suit.” Mina promptly burst out laughing, and Grace rolled her eyes. “I meant,” she said, mock-glaring at the other woman, “that it’ll be nice to see Jensen go casual for once.”

“Dude,” Riley piped up, “do you even own a pair of jeans?”

“One that didn’t cost about what I paid for my car?” Yasser teased.

Jensen huffed. “I do not shop at Harry Rosen!”

Jared laughed along with everyone else, that now familiar fond expression on his face when he looked at Jensen. “You’re gonna have to show your support for the team, too.”

“I have a Jays’ jersey,” Jensen retorted, wondering what it was about Jared that always had him on the defensive.

“Is it Arencibia’s?”

Jensen flushed a little guiltily. “Maybe.”

“Aww,” Mina cooed, “someone’s got a little crush.” She grinned at him. “I cannot fault your taste, though. JP is gorgeous and sweet and, boy, can he play ball.”

“You know,” Riley threw his two cents into the ring, “you kinda remind me of Arencibia, Jared.” Jensen blinked at that, his gaze colliding with Jared’s as Riley continued, “I mean, JP’s always smiling, he’s kind of a happy-go-lucky guy, you know? Tall – not as tall as you, man, but then again who is, right? – built, muscle-y but not so much that you’d think he’s on steroids; I’m pretty secure enough in my masculinity to say he’s one good-looking dude.” He looked at Jensen with a grin. “Good choice.”

“I played baseball; I was a catcher, too,” Jensen muttered, affronted and defensive. “I like him because he’s a good player.”

“Sure you do,” Mina taunted, “but it helps that he’s also good  _looking_ , right?”

Jensen stared at her and then blinked in surprise. She wasn’t so much taunting as teasing, and good-naturedly at that. He smiled; it was a small smile, granted, but it was a smile nonetheless. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Everyone laughed and Jensen’s mouth twitched again, so he quickly looked out the window to avoid any further eye contact – he was pretty sure he’d gone above and beyond his quota already – but Jared’s gaze caught his in their reflections in the glass, and Jensen couldn’t help but look at the flesh-and-blood version instead, his breath catching in his chest when Jared silently stared right back, one big hand steady over his heart as if Jared was willing it to be still.

Jensen closed his eyes and pretended to doze.

* * *

 

He made a run for it as soon as they got into Union Station but Jared caught up with him on the crosswalk at Bay and Front Streets, and hey – this was not a scripted move. Jensen didn’t ad lib, so he stood there like an idiot and stared at Jared, speechless and waiting for him to speak and give Jensen his cue.

Jared smiled, a slow burn sort of sexy smirk that had Jensen sucking in a deep breath and holding it. “You wanna have lunch with me today?”

“I thought you took the subway to the museum,” Jensen muttered inanely.

“I do,” Jared told him, “but I also can’t wait until six to see you again, so I thought I’d ask you out to lunch.”

“Oh.”

Someone jostled Jared from behind and he ended up in Jensen’s closely guarded bubble of personal space; Jensen exhaled in a rush. “So?”

“Er… I have a meeting.”

Jared looked at the pavement with some interest. “Is this you trying to let me down easy again?”

“No!” Jensen hastened to reassure him, although why, he didn’t know. It could’ve had something to do with the forlorn look on Jared’s face, like Jensen had kicked his puppy and Jensen was never cruel to animals, okay? “I can’t lie for shit. You’d’ve been able to tell. I really do have a meeting.”

Jared’s gloomy expression brightened. “Are you still getting off work at the regular time?”

“Early today. Also because of that meeting. I’ll be done around three,” Jensen told him, and really, what was with the sudden oversharing? He had no idea when he’d become such a blabbermouth.

“So…I wouldn’t have seen you on the train home today?”

“I… Yeah. I mean, no. No, we would’ve missed each other…”

Jared picked an imaginary piece of lint off Jensen’s lapel; it had to be imaginary – lint wouldn’t dare come anywhere near one of Jensen’s suits. “Do you want to hang out?”

“I don’t…hang out.”

“Oh. Okay.” Jared stared at the pavement some more before he nodded – at what, Jensen wasn’t sure – and looked at him again. “You want to come visit the museum? I could show you around. Maybe we could grab a coffee and something sweet to eat?”

He wanted to say he couldn’t, he wanted to claim that it was the end of a long week, made even longer by the unforeseen disruptions to his life initiated by the man in front of him, but he couldn’t, because Jared looked way too hopeful and even if he wasn’t Jensen’s type, Jensen didn’t have the heart to be mean to him; not any longer anyway.

Stupid Jared; he grew on you like a clinging vine. Yeah, like ivy choking the sides of a house. Like fungus.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” The sun burst through the clouds just then, Jensen was fairly certain, but a quick peek skywards confirmed that everything up there was as blue and clear as it had been earlier, so it must’ve been the solar flare from Jared’s blinding smile. “Fine? Really? That’s awesome! Umm…meet me at the front doors at…what? Half past three?”

“Better make it four,” Jensen told him, “I usually brief my team after these monthly meetings; that takes a half hour or so.”

“Four then.” Jared grinned. “It’s a date.” Hazel eyes widened in shock as the words were said, and Jared backpedalled frantically. “Figure of speech! Not a  _date_ date…just, you know, a getting together, a meeting…like the one you have at lunch…like…”

Jensen held up a hand. “I get the picture. It’s not a date,” he said, putting Jared out of his misery. “Can I go now? You seriously messing with my schedule.”

* * *

 

That afternoon, Jensen didn’t even bother trying to think of excuses; he just left work, hopped on the subway and took it to Museum station, glancing around in wonder when he got there because it had been years since he’d been to the ROM – the last time had been on a school trip, actually – and the revamped interior of the station was incredible. Each support pillar along the platform was now a carved effigy of some sort: Greek columns – the classical Doric style, Jensen thought – red and gold decorated Chinese columns, upright Egyptian sarcophagi, and Aztec and Inuit totems; it was fantastic and he was in awe, and he said as much to Jared as soon as he saw him.

Jared beamed liked this pleased him somehow. “Did you get a good look at the station name on the wall?” Jensen shook his head in confusion. “It’s got ‘Museum’ carved into the wall, all caps and, if you look closely, you’ll see that the tiny black pattern in the gold background is actually hieroglyphics. It’s so cool.”

“Oh. That is cool. Remind me to check it out on the way back.”

“I will. So, you wanna head in, or grab some coffee first?”

"Coffee on the way home, I think. I forgot how much I enjoy this sort of thing,” Jensen confided, peering up at the giant glass and steel structure that jaggedly cut into the blue sky above them. “Although…I think I liked the old entranceway better, though, it was a lot more sedate. Classic. I like sedate and classic.”

“Me too,” Jared agreed with a smile, and Jensen was suddenly a little unsure as to whether he was still talking about the museum; instead, he chose to enjoy the afternoon and not read too much into it.

 

* * *

It was too dark outside to watch for the lake on the way home, so Jensen let Jared tell him about the next exhibit he was helping to plan, one on ancient Gaelic crosses. It was interesting, and Jared’s voice had a sort of soothing quality to it so Jensen just sat back and relaxed, sipping his steaming Paradiso Bold and trying not to cringe every time Jared slurped on his frothy maple latte.

He decided that Friday, despite its dubious start, and in spite of his meeting from hell, had ended on a pleasant enough note that it more than made up for his misery earlier in the week, and hey, in just a few hours, his favourite day of the week would dawn; not too shabby, all things considered.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Jensen drove to the Rogers Centre on Saturday morning. It just made more sense. He wasn’t about to pay the exorbitant prices they charged for beer at the ballpark, so he'd be good to drive, and maybe after the game, he’d go for a walk downtown until the post-game exodus on the highway thinned out enough to make his drive home one that did not involve idling in gridlocked traffic.

Jared was easy to pick out in the crowd, and it wasn’t all that strange to see him out of his usual attire of chinos and a dress shirt. He was actually dressed almost exactly like Jensen, in khaki shorts and Jays’ jersey, Jared’s white to Jensen’s black, Jared’s Bautista, Number 19, to Jensen’s Arencibia, Number 9.

“Hey, Bowlegs.”

That brought Jensen up short. He glared at Jared a few seconds before he realized that with his shades on, Jared couldn’t really tell anything from his expression. “Rude.”

“What?”

“You. That was rude.”

“I was kidding!”

“You were making fun,” Jensen huffed, wondering again why he couldn’t just keep his big mouth shut. “Whatever. Where is everyone? Oh, and how much do I owe you for the ticket?”

“On their way, and the ticket’s on me,” Jared said, squinting down at him after pushing his aviators up and over his hair. “I was just teasing you, Jensen, come on. I didn’t mean anything by it. I like your legs.”

“Do you not recall me saying ‘whatever’ just a second ago?” Jensen snarled. “Moving on. Tell me how much I owe you; I don’t like to owe anyone anything.”

“You’re testy.”

“You're...tall.”

Jared laughed at his admittedly asinine comeback. "Talking to you is like walking through a minefield."

“Shut up. The ticket?”

“Buy me a beer and a burger and we’ll call it even.”

“We’re in the nosebleeds?”

“Nope. Let’s just say that I know some people.” Jared stared at him for a bit, in that same sort of intense way he sometimes did, the one that messed up Jensen’s ability to breathe properly. “Your legs are sexy…”

“You…shut up.”

“Just like the rest of you…”

“Seriously. I will leave…”

Riley snuck up on them at that exact moment. “Leave?” He looked bewildered. “Didn’t you just get here?”

"I was aggravating him again,” Jared explained.

“You do tend to do that a lot,” Riley agreed. “One of these days, Jared,” he mock-warned with a wagging finger at Jared and a wink for Jensen. “Pow! Right in the kisser.”

Jensen wasn’t sure, because Mina, Yasser and Grace showed up just then, but he could’ve sworn he’d heard Jared mumble a hopeful, “I wish.”

* * *

 

The game was great, if a little uncomfortable, because two six-foot-plus grown men should not have to twist their bodies into complicated yoga positions in order to fit into stadium seating, but Jensen supposed it was part and parcel of the baseball experience. Besides, this was his one indulgence over the summer: going to the occasional ball game.

They had decent 200-level seats in the shade, and usually, fate and Jays Manager John Farrell had something against him and gave Arencibia the day off whenever Jensen came to a game, but today, JP was behind the plate and Jensen was a happy camper.

Because Arencibia had a hit streak going, not because he was eye candy.

Yeah, so Jensen couldn’t even lie to himself; it was pathetic, really.

Which was incidentally also why he couldn’t exactly explain away the fact that, for the next three plus hours the Jays took to actually win a game against the Division-leading Yankees, he couldn’t recall a single thing Number 9 had done.

What he could recall, in stunning clarity, was the way the warm, tanned bare skin of Jared’s leg had felt pressed up close and personal against his, the way the soft hair there had tickled Jensen, the way their combined sweat made their skin stick together just the tiniest bit. Then there was the way the fresh scent of Jared’s aftershave had teased his senses every time Jared leaned in to tell him something, and don’t even get him started on the way his skin tingled every time Jared touched him, which was a lot of times, and Jensen would’ve taken offense had he not seen Jared manhandle Riley, who was sitting on his other side, in exactly the same way.

So Jared was a touchy-feely kind of guy. Whatever. It’s not like Jensen gave a damn. And that churning, roiling, burning feeling in his stomach was indigestion, not jealousy, because ball park hot dogs, what the fuck, he should’ve known better than to eat one.

Yup. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

The dawn on Sunday was heralded by birdsong and a stunning sunrise. Jensen ignored it all and slept in.

He woke up around ten, had breakfast and shuffled about the house all day doing laundry while cleaning up, dusting, vacuuming, changing his sheets, and finally scrubbing the bathroom until it shone.

He was done by two in the afternoon, so he took a long, hot shower before heading back down to the kitchen, listlessly opening the fridge and peering inside, wondering what he could have for lunch. After a minute of staring blankly at the decently stocked fridge, and later opening and closing nearly every single kitchen cupboard, he sighed and gave up.

Bored. He was so bored, he couldn’t even summon up the energy to make a sandwich.

After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed out. He bought a couple of tubs of Häagen Dazs and ate one as he caught the tail-end of the Jays’ game. Arencibia had a day off and Benji Molina was catching; it did nothing to help Jensen’s mood.

Since he and his doctor had that pesky rule about not working on the weekends, he watched  _Deadliest Warriors_  instead, Navy SEAL versus Israeli Commando and, no surprise, the badass Navy SEAL won. That reminded Jensen of  _Hawaii Five-0_ , so he scrolled through his TiVo and re-watched a couple of episodes.

He had to force himself to get up and have dinner; he made himself a tuna sandwich, grabbed a can of ginger ale, and ate and drank in silence, his kitchen so quiet that he could hear the crickets chirping in the backyard, and the distant sounds of kids laughing a few houses down from his, over the din of old Mrs. Harper yelling at them.

The sounds of life moving on without him.

He stared at his phone and wished it would ring. At this point, he’d even listen to a telemarketer’s spiel in its entirety, maybe even get his ducts cleaned like they kept bugging him to do, and he suddenly remembered that that had been the last time he’d had people in his house, when the gas company had come by to service the furnace and air-conditioning almost eight months ago…

Enough.

What the fuck was it about Jared that made Jensen think about him and miss him and yearn for the sound of his voice so much, for fuck’s sake? It was ludicrous. Sundays were meant to be for de-stressing, unwinding, and relaxing in the tranquil confines of his house, and now suddenly all he wanted to do was get on a GO train just so he could see the man who’d stolen his seat, and maybe his heart, and how was that even possible? Jared was so not his type.

Jensen groaned as he fell, face first, into bed.

God. He hated Sundays with the fiery passion of ten thousand suns.

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

He was up before his alarm on Monday morning, not that he was eager or anything, but he hadn’t had the best night’s sleep. Besides, Monday mornings came with renewed clarity (with a side of dread about the week ahead, but whatever), so Jensen could work with that; if there was a certain spring to his step, well, there was no one around to see it.

He had a smile ready for Mina and Yasser; he used the same one for Grace and Riley and Jared…

Was not in his seat.

Jensen must’ve stood there for a bit, staring at that empty seat, because the train lurched forward and Jensen sat down before he could stumble. Riley shrugged at him.

“He’s a no-show today, dude,” he said. “Sorry.”

Jensen didn’t know what to say to that so he turned and stared unseeingly out the window instead.

* * *

 

All day.

He thought about Jared all damn day. He called the ROM and got as far as the operator before he hung up in a panic. He was pretty sure he had no right to call Jared at work and demand to know why he hadn’t been on the train this morning. He was fairly certain he couldn’t lecture Jared about the proper ways not to worry your…co-commuters by not showing up when you were supposed to and, oh fuck, Jensen suddenly found himself on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

It took him a very long five minutes to get his ragged breathing under control and get back to work; it was a good thing he’d brown-bagged his lunch today, those things came in handy when hyperventilating.

* * *

 

There was chaos at Union when he got there at his usual time. The station was packed and he managed to learn that somewhere along the line heading east to Oshawa, there’d been a problem on the tracks; it had just been cleared up so now there was a backlog of irate passengers, all but trampling over each other in their hurry to get home.

Must be nice, Jensen mused to himself as he hung back a little, grabbing a coffee while he waited for the crowd to thin out a bit. He made his way up as soon as the platform number was announced and bumped into Grace while waiting for the train to pull in.

“You look like shit,” she told him in lieu of a more universal greeting. “Impeccable as always,” she hastened to elucidate after catching a glimpse of Jensen’s frowning face, “but still…dark circles, you’re also kind of pale… Not your usual pretty self, Jensen.”

“To be fair, you’ve never really seen me at this time of day.”

“Yeah, but Jared has,” she said, like Jensen was a topic they’d discussed on a regular basis or something, “and he said he can’t believe you’re real sometimes, that’s how good you looked at the end of the day. The rest of us had to agree; you’re kind of beautiful in this unearthly way.”

Jensen frowned at her. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Oh my God.” Grace huffed and shook her head. “Do you even own a mirror? My ex could’ve used some pointers in humility from you.”

“Ex?”

“I dumped his ass.”

“Oh. Sorry?”

“Don’t be. I mean what kind of man takes you out for a romantic dinner and then proceeds to flirt with the hostess, the waitress, and the busboy?”

“A very stupid man?” Jensen replied with quasi-confidence.

"Exactly, and I don’t care how hot he was, who does that?”

“Actually…” Jensen paused, surprised at himself, because there he was, voluntarily perched on the precipice of an impending conversation.

“Actually, what?”

“Er… My ex. He used to do that all the time.” Jensen studied the train tracks with great interest. “He always told me it was expected, that you got better service that way…”

Grace sputtered in indignation. “That’s what Bryan said too!”

“I believed him – young and naïve is not a good combination – but it got to the point where… Anyway, after I caught him in bed with two of the waitresses from a bar he liked to go to, I cut my losses.”

“Well, good for you!”

Jensen let out the breath he was holding; it was the first time he’d told someone that story. Well, the real version of events anyway; usually he just said that he and his ex had grown apart and gone their separate ways. And now look at him, all communicative and shit. Wonders would never cease.

“Are you with anyone now?” Grace asked. He shook his head and she smirked slyly. “You should be. Oh look, there’s Riley!” Grace waved and shouted, “Riley!”

“Hey guys.” The younger man waved and weaved his way through the bodies crammed onto the platform. “Jeez, it’s insane how many people there are here…” He was interrupted by the huffing and hissing of the train’s engine as it rolled up to the platform. “You’re not getting your seat today, Jensen.”

“I don’t mind,” Jensen told him. He was about to throw caution to the wind and ask Riley if he knew Jared’s number when a warm, heavy hand descended on his shoulder, squeezing tight, and shit, Jensen knew that touch; he didn’t even need to turn around, but turn around he did, like a fucking sunflower turns towards the sun. “Jared.”

“Hey, Jen,” Jared greeted him huskily, a tired, lopsided smile on his face. Jensen was so fucking happy to see him that he forgot to be mad at Jared’s use of his hated nickname. “I was hoping I’d still catch you.”

“He missed you this morning,” Mina chirped from just behind Jared and Jensen hadn’t even noticed that she and Yasser were standing right there. “Looks like he wasn’t the only one, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s awesome, guys,” Yasser interrupted, “but can we save the slo-mo running into each other’s arms for later and try to squeeze our way onto this train? The next one’s not for another hour.”

So they squeezed in, all of them forming a protective circle around Mina; she wasn’t showing yet, but she was still pregnant so they felt justified, and she just rolled her eyes at them good-humouredly and let them do it. Somehow Jensen ended up with his back pressed against the plexiglass divider next to the doors with some big, burly guy’s armpit a few scant inches from his face, and really? They weren’t even moving yet, did the man need to hang on to the overhead bar like an overgrown ape? Okay, all right, so that was uncharitable but they were packed in like sardines in a can, so Jensen resorted to breathing through his mouth.

To distract himself, he stared at the way Jared’s hair kind of curled sideways with sweat where it rested against his shirt collar; it was a bit mesmerizing and Jensen was pretty sure he wanted to lick the sweat off Jared’s skin. Slowly and with great attention to detail because that’s how Jensen rolled.

They were a minute out of Eglinton station before Jared grabbed him by the shoulders and gently jostled him until his back was up against the doors instead and Jared had moved in front of him, a big, human barrier between Jensen and the man with the BO issues.

“Didn’t want you to pass out,” Jared muttered quietly.

Jensen chuckled. “My hero.”

Jared blinked at him in what appeared to be stunned silence. “Did you just…? Was that… _laughter_ , Jensen?”

“You’re imagining things.” Jared stared at him. “Maybe just a little.”

“You really can’t lie, can you? It’s kind of refreshing. Now if only you weren’t such an ornery bastard.” Jared grinned, Jensen frowned mightily and Mina and Grace giggled from where they were squished in the doorway beside him.

Jensen chose not to dignify Jared’s comment with a response and made better use of his time staring at the way sweat gathered and pooled in the hollow of Jared’s throat and yeah, he still wanted to lick the guy all over, starting right there, or maybe a little higher, just behind his ear, over and across and into his mouth and all the way down to his dick.

All the breath whooshed out of his body just thinking about it, and just as he was trying to figure out a way to discreetly hide the fact that he was getting hard in his pants, Jared was manhandling him again, turning him around to face the doors this time. He leaned in and spoke over Jensen’s shoulder, right into the shell of his ear, sending helpless shivers skittering through Jensen’s body.

“Lake’s coming up.”

Yeah. The lake wasn’t the only thing coming up, Jensen thought with a mental eye roll.

He felt Jared turn to talk to the guys and let out the breath he was holding; it fogged up the glass on the door and obscured his vision, not that he was looking at the lake anyway. Grace suddenly elbowed him in the gut and he stifled a yelp just in time. Who knew she had such pointy elbows? He turned to look at her in question.

 _Ask. Him. Out._

Jensen gaped in shock as she clearly mouthed the words without uttering a sound, gesturing in Jared’s direction with all the subtlety of a Sherman tank barrelling into battle. Jensen frowned and gave a brusque shake of his head; Grace glared at him.

 _Why. Not?_

Oh, so many reasons. What if he said ‘no’? What if he said ‘yes’? What if it led to a few great dates, hot sex, and then Jared left him, like every other guy he’d gone out with, because he was boring and not so easy to get along with? Jensen blinked and swallowed past the lump in his throat and startled when Mina smacked his chest.

“What is the hold up?” she asked quietly.

“He’s not my type,” Jensen mumbled.

Grace growled low in her throat. “Sounded to me like you dated assholes before, so maybe you should change your type.”

"I… Oh.”

“Are you for real?” Mina asked in a furious whisper, and then tapped his forehead with a manicured finger. “Is this thing on?” Jensen glowered at her and she blithely gave him an arch look, yanking him closer to her and Grace by tugging on his tie. “He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since you fell into his lap like God’s gift itself last week and you! Are a chickenshit.”

Well. That was…blunt. “What if…?”

“There are no 'what if’s' – you’re impossible. Ask him out or I will…”

“You’re married!”

“…ask him out for you!”

“Umm…” Jensen actually considered it for a second before shaking his head and then nodding tersely. “O…okay. Okay.” He said it again. For luck, maybe. “Okay.”

Jensen turned back to look at the lake again as the train hurtled onwards, and found, to his eternal dismay, that in those few seconds, his tongue had tied itself into many complicated knots; he dropped his head to the glass and banged it there a couple of times. Before he could do it a third time – for luck, of course – Jared’s big hand got in his way and he laughed over Jensen’s shoulder.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked softly.

“Why weren’t you on the train this morning?” Jensen asked right back, and if he maybe leaned back a little into Jared’s broad chest, well, it was just to maintain his balance and regain the equilibrium he’d lost since getting on the train.

You know,  _last_  Monday.

It made him feel better when Jared leaned in close too. “What?”

“Where were you this morning?”

“Oh.” Jared bit his lip and stared at him; Jensen could see him in his peripheral vision. “I went downtown yesterday, ended up staying the night.” Something that felt a lot like a searing hot poker stabbed Jensen right through the heart. Of course Jared had a place to randomly spend the night in Toronto. With friends at best, with fuckbuddies at worst and… “I stayed over at my brother’s…”

Oh. Well. Okay.

“Don’t do it again,” Jensen found his traitorous mouth saying before he could stop himself.

Jared chuckled. “Don’t go over to my brother’s?”

“Don’t miss the train.” Jensen couldn’t stop himself from looking at Jared as he said it, and he was rewarded by one of those dimpled grins.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Gee, Grace,” Jensen heard Mina less-than-subtly comment from just behind him, “we’re almost at Rouge Hill. Jensen’s stop.”

Jensen groaned when Jared looked at her quizzically. “Jared?”

“Yeah?”

“Running out of track,” Grace sing-songed.

“Oh God,” Jensen muttered, looking at Jared in helpless desperation. “Do you…? Would you…?” He took a deep breath as the train slowed in its approach into Rouge Hill; Jensen’s heartbeat, though, sped up. “I can cook!” he blurted out randomly. Jared looked at him like he was a deranged person and yeah, okay, maybe he was. “Dinner. I can cook dinner. I can cook us dinner. Today. Now. Er… Do you eat dinner?” Oh God, why was he so, so, so incredibly lame?

“And breakfast and lunch,” Jared told him with a smirk, leaning in as if about to confide a secret. “I’ve also been known to snack on occasion.”

Jensen drew in a deep breath and blew it out in a rush. “Do you…?”

“…want to come over for dinner?” Jared finished for him; Jensen nodded gratefully. “I’d love to.” Jensen could’ve sworn there was some hushed squealing by the two lovely, annoying ladies beside him. The guys, on the other hand, overtly bumped fists.

“Hallelujah,” Riley said.

“Amen,” Yasser agreed.

The train stopped. They waved goodbye to their…friends…and got off. Then they stood on the open-air platform as every one of the other passengers hurriedly made their way home. Then they watched as the train rumbled away again.

Jensen sighed when it disappeared from sight. “I walk home.”

Jared smiled and nodded. “Okay. Let’s walk. Can I hold your hand?”

Jensen wheeled around to look at him in surprise, frowning when he saw the teasing smile on Jared’s face. “You’re making fun of me again.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Jared clarified, leaning into Jensen until their chests were almost touching, “I’m  _flirting_  with you.”

“Oh.” So that was how you did it. Good to know. “I don’t…do flirting.”

Jared tipped his head up with a finger on his chin. “That’s cool. I’ll teach you, on the condition that you only flirt with me. And I still wanna to hold your hand.”

“Okay.”

Jensen breathed in and slipped his hand into Jared’s larger one, enjoying the way Jared squeezed it, revelling in the way they just…fit. It was nice and not something he’d done since… Okay, he’d never done this before, ever. Even as a kid, he’d been introverted and shy and smarter than anyone else his age, which meant he’d skipped a couple of grades and had no friends to speak of. University hadn’t been much better, and after he’d been headhunted by Revenue Canada, his fate as a recluse had been forever sealed, locked tight, with the key thrown away.

And now here was Jared, and apparently he moonlighted as a safecracker.

It made Jensen suddenly, inordinately angry.

“What are you doing? I don’t get it!”

“I’m trying not to fall in love you. That’s what I’m doing.” Jared laughed a little and shook his head. “It’s not working very well, though, because you are way too adorable for your own good and I can’t seem help myself…”

“You’re…  _What?_ ”

“Oh no… You’re not gonna freak out, are you? Please don’t freak out, Jensen…”

“I’m not… Okay, maybe a little.” Jensen stalled a few houses away from his. “Why?”

“Why what?” Jared asked, his smile not skipping a beat.

“Why…me?”

“Have you met you?”

“Yes! So my question still stands.” Jared huffed, and for the first time since he’d sat in Jensen’s seat exactly a week ago, he actually looked angry and, oh crap, Jensen should really learn to keep his mouth shut. “Sorry. No, you’re right. We should just go…”

“What’s his name?”

“Whose name?”

“The guy who did a number on you.” Jensen turned and started walking again, but Jared’s long stride negated his lead in a couple of seconds. “Seriously. I need his name and address. And maybe a baseball bat.” Jensen stuttered to a stop and Jared walked right into him, his long arms automatically wrapping around Jensen’s body like tentacles. Jared pressed in close enough for his lips to brush Jensen’s ear as he spoke. “You are amazing.”

“I’m boring…”

“I have never been bored around you.”

“Give it time.”

“Jensen. We spent the entire afternoon at the museum yesterday. Until after closing. And I had fun, and I could tell that you loved every moment, too. I have never been able to share that aspect of my life with anyone else I’ve gone out with, because guys aren’t generally interested in ancient Roman pottery, so yeah… You’re amazing.”

Whatever counterargument Jensen could have come up with was stymied by a kiss on his cheek and okay. He could maybe possibly do this. Besides, being held like this was nice and maybe a little addictive. He could totally get used to this... “Please don’t turn out like the rest of them,” he begged in a whisper, almost too quietly, but Jared stiffened behind him, so he’d obviously heard it, but all he did was squeeze Jensen tighter, closer, like he didn’t really want to ever let him go.

“Forget the bat, I’m gonna pound on this guy with my fists until he’s broken and bloody and...”

"Jared…”

“If you need to talk about it, I will listen, but I won’t push you. I promise.”

“I… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jensen got another kiss on his cheek. It was one of many and the first of a slow trail of kisses that mapped an unhurried path from just behind his ear and all along his nape. “Man, I wanted to do that on the train,” Jared breathed into his skin. Jensen jumped when he felt the sharp little nip of Jared’s teeth, and he shivered when Jared’s tongue swiped across the bite. “You’re delectable. And sexy. You even taste amazing.”

“We’re on the sidewalk on my street. I think old Mrs. Harper is watching us through her blinds.”

Jared barked out a laugh. “So let’s give her a show then.” Jensen made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a  _giggle_ and then slapped a hand over his mouth in surprise. Jared looked delighted and waggled his eyebrows. “I am so gonna enjoy loosening you up.”

Jensen groaned. “Punny.”

“Thanks. I try.”

“Well, please stop. Can we go home now?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into by volunteering to feed me. I enjoy eating like you enjoy calculus. So a lot.”

Jensen wriggled out of his arms and gave him a mocking once over. “Really? I’d never have been able to tell.”

Jared slung an arm across Jensen’s shoulder and tucked him in closer to his big body as they walked the rest of the way. “What else can’t you tell about me?”

“Everybody likes you…”

Jared grinned when Jensen let him into his home. “What’s not to like?”

“My point exactly,” Jensen agreed as he shut the door behind him and almost immediately found himself backed up against it, Jared looming over him like a giant, friendly yeti, trapping him there in the cage of his gangly arms, palms pressed against the door as he inched closer. Close enough that their lips brushed when Jensen spoke softly. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“There’s more to my house than just the front hallway.”

“Is there?”

“I’m pretty sure I remember buying it because it had three bedrooms… It was a good investment…”

“Jensen?”

“Mmm?”

“Shut up.”

Before Jensen could even think about obeying that gentle command, Jared was kissing him and shutting him up himself and Jensen was pretty sure he’d died at some point during the day, because Jared’s kiss was nothing short of…heavenly.

It was like being kissed for the first time all over again because it made him instantly forget everyone else who’d ever kissed him before and oh… Jared sucking on his tongue was a glorious thing, and Jensen wished with his whole heart that he could get to keep this, keep Jared, for just a little while longer than usual because Jared was beautiful inside and out and probably perfect for him and the nicest, sweetest, sexiest, most considerate and interesting person Jensen had ever met in his life and maybe…maybe just exactly Jensen’s type.

He kept his eyes closed and his lips pursed even when Jared finally pulled back. By an inch.

“Wow,” Jared said, his breath puffing against Jensen’s swollen, spit-shiny lips.

“Yeah,” Jensen agreed. Jared smiled and gently stroked his cheek and Jensen tried not sound hopelessly needy when he spoke again. “Did you mean it?”

“I mean everything where you’re concerned. But er…what exactly are you referring to?”

“About the…falling in love thing.”

“Definitely. Absolutely, oh my God, Jensen…” Jared groaned and rested his forehead against Jensen’s. “I am so gone for you.”

“That’s…nice.”

Jared looked a little flabbergasted at that, so Jensen smiled at him, just to let him know nice was a good thing and then he was being kissed again and, yeah… ‘Wow’ was right.

* * *

 

Jared not only stayed for dinner, he helped Jensen cook it, intermittently crowding him up against the counter and kissing him and touching him and being all up in his personal space and Jensen found that he didn’t mind it even a tiny, little bit.

He cuddled with him on the couch after dessert, both of them talking and laughing as they got to know each other a little better, until they ended up making out like horny teenagers before they realized that they were both very consenting, very eager adults and they could take this into the bedroom and Jared could borrow one of Jensen’s shirts in the morning and Jensen had a brand new pack of boxer briefs that would fit Jared, maybe a little snugly but whatever, so he wouldn’t have to go commando in the morning.

Not that that was necessarily a bad thing for Jensen but, hey, little kids frequented the ROM.

They fell into bed and into each other and it was amazing, like they were meant to be or something sappy like that, and when Jensen fucked Jared, steady and deep and hard and desperate, it was like scoring an inside-the-park home run, a frantic running of the bases until he finally slid home, safe, and he stayed there for a few endless seconds, just to savour the score.

He was pretty sure Monday was his new favourite day of the week.

They fell into sleep just as easily, wrapped up in each other because Jared actually wanted to snuggle and liked snuggling and so Jensen clung to him and didn’t let go until Tuesday dawned bright and beautiful and full of promise and Jared woke him up and fucked him, slow and sure and so, so sweet before they rolled out of bed together and shared a shower because conserving water was a good thing; they’d learned that from the exhibit at the ROM.

On the train, Grace smirked and switched seats with Jared just so he could sit next to Jensen and lean on him, maybe doze a little on his shoulder as Jensen watched the lake go by with a tiny, happy smile on his face the entire way to work. They’d already endured the gleeful delight from their devious matchmaking friends and somehow this had translated into another shared activity for the coming Saturday: They were all going to the zoo together. Jensen had no idea how this was the same life he’d been living last week; it felt more like a rebirth, or a reincarnation, or something equally profound and beyond logical explanation.

Jensen just smiled and held onto Jared’s hand, and truly, this was turning out to be a stellar Tuesday.

Actually, Jensen was coming to realize, maybe every day was a good day as long as you had someone special to share it with, and if that someone happened to be Jared, then, to paraphrase Jared himself, every day from now on was going to be…awesome.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Just in case you're wondering, this is what the Museum subway station platform in Toronto looks like:

  


 

  


  


  


 

  


  


  


  


This is what the entrance to the ROM looks like:

 

  


  


  


  


And this... This is my boy.

  


  


 


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